


The Chloe Chronicles

by LesbianHour



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Diary/Journal, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-21 11:10:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4826894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LesbianHour/pseuds/LesbianHour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somewhere in the back of my mind I got this lingering feeling. It was like a vivid daydream playing behind my eyelids. In an instant I was transported to a moment that was somewhere...else. I pictured her whispering, "Kiss me" in a low, husky tone. She licked her lips and bucked her hips up towards me. Everything about her body was begging me to move closer. We were magnets drawn together. A natural force in an unnatural place. And without hesitation I cupped her face in my hand, and leaned into her.<br/>****<br/>A journal of the life and (tragically sober) times of Chloe Price.</p>
<p>Set after the events of episode 5.</p>
<p>Pricefield is endgame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This story is becoming epic! I've found my groove!
> 
> This is my first fic ever. I couldn't help myself. These characters get me right in the feels and waiting for episode 5 is killing me. I couldn't stand Chloe being dead, so I had to resurrect her. LIVE, you sexy blue haired vixen! LIVE! 
> 
> Just a little background info about me: I'm a photographer/gay lady from Canada. Some of Chloe and Max's adventures may or may not be based loosely on actual events found in my own personal journal, (clearly not the time travel stuff though. Or maybe???? lol no). ;) As the story progresses I think I'm going to pepper in some actual photography lingo too just to entertain myself. 
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated!

December 1, 2013

I am slowly going crazy and nobody knows. Or at least it feels like it right now. Thoughts about life/death/love/hate/time are all swirling around my tragically sober brain constantly and I just don't have anywhere to put it all. Life sucked ass before, but at least I could drown everything out with a few sips and puffs. Now it's just me in here and that's a bit horrifying. My thoughts are so fucking LOUD I feel like if I don't write shit out here I'm just going to scream it out, and even in this state I know that would be just about the worst idea ever. For the first time in a hella long time, I actually DO kind of care what (some) people think about me. I'm not an artist or a writer or a human who has pretty much any talent whatsoever, aside from being sassy as fuck. But despite all the things I'm not, I AM a woman of my word and I made a promise to a special someone that I would try life out this way for awhile. So I am. 

Sober and writing. Ugh. This is probably going to be painful. You have been warned. If you are reading this, I guess that means I think you should know this stuff, or might care to know it, or...something. If you are reading this I want you to know what I'm thinking because I fucking suck at saying how I feel most of the time. But that doesn't mean I'm not feeling it. And it doesn't mean that I don't want you to know it. 

So much has happened over the past few months. In no particular order:

1) The girl I was crushing on big-style dumped my ass before leaving this world for good, and it's so fucking hard to wrap my head around all the what-ifs. When she said it was over, I didn't really think it was OVER. But death has a way of making break ups SUPER final. And that hurts like a bitch. Sometimes I wonder if that hurt is ever going to go away.  
2) My mom and ex-stepdouche finally got separated. I'm going to have one hell of a party when that shit-show of a relationship becomes a shit-show of a divorce.  
3) I started working towards my GED. Teenage delinquent is a great short term gig, but recently the world kind of opened up for me and I had the mad-urge to think big-picture.  
4) And, most importantly, my best friend, Max, came back into my life after being MIA for five years. And oh yea, she and can FUCKING REWIND TIME. Yea. Whatever. No big deal. 

More about that crazy time shit later. The Max story is best digested in pieces. She's a complicated person. Our relationship is complicated. She's also pretty much the most important person in my life. Nothing like that can be explained in one sitting.

I really miss writing in a journal. When Max and I were kids we would write notes to each other all the time. One summer, Max had the brilliant idea to start a journal. We had joint (heh heh) custody of that thing, and we took turns writing in it. I wish I still had it now. I bet it would be hilarious. We were oddly into pirates when we were like 12 and we wrote a lot of sea-based adventures starring both of us. Even though those stories were silly and (mostly) fictional, it gave me a chance to get my thoughts out at a time when I felt like there were very few people who cared to hear what I had to say. I miss getting my thoughts out in that way. With Max back in the picture, it's time to get back to my roots. 

So...onward...with this journal...with life. 

CP


	2. Sophomore Slump

December 5, 2013

I once heard somewhere that the first step is the hardest. Not true. The first step is easy. Or at least it is for me. The first step is the planning step and I can plan just about anything. Even Max knows it. She calls me an idea MACHINE. I can plan to go back to school, or to get a job, or to design a sweet new tattoo. I can figure out I'm totally head over heals in love with a girl and that I want more than anything to run off into the happy orange glow of a U-Haul sunset with her. I can plan anything I want. When it comes to first steps, I'm captain of that ship. (Yar, matey). 

It's the second step that's hard. Sophomore Slump is my middle name. Once I've made a decision to do something I have no idea how the fuck to actually do it. It's not for lack of possibilities though. No, it's quite the opposite. It's that for any given task, there are too many ways to do that task. It's like a thousand cars on a super highway merging into a single lane. It's chaos. Ultimately, unless all those drivers settle the fuck down and take turns, no one is getting to their destination. 

That's what's happening in my head right now. A million thoughts are hanging out in my grey matter, all road-raging and honking as they fight to get themselves out onto the page. So I'm pretty much just sitting here like I always do, trying not to explode. This would be a great time for some serious cannabis therapy, if I was so inclined. Which I'm not. Ok, I sort of am, but like I said before, I'm not going to do it. For the record though, being sober fucking sucks sometimes. But love makes people do crazy things. 

Ex-stepdouche always said, "Chloe, you never take the time to think; you just act. You can't live life being so impulsive". Fuck him. He couldn't be more wrong. All I DO is think. I can't turn my brain off sometimes I think so much. My thoughts literally keep me up at night. The shitty thing is, I spend so much time thinking, that when it comes to action, I end up messing up majorly. All the possibilities of what I could/should/want to do fight to the surface. Ultimately, I end up just doing something ridiculous or rude because fuck it all. If I can't ever do the right thing, (or any of the things I want to do, really), I might as well do something fucking epic. 

And thus, almost everyone thinks that Chloe Price is fucking epic and rude and ridiculous. No one has a fucking clue, and most of the time. There have only been two people in my life who have been able to see through that bullshit: Rachel and Max. It knocks the wind out of me when I realize that the two most important people in my life will never, ever be able to meet each other. Like, it just seems wrong. It seems like a lie someone is telling me that I don't believe at all. I just want to run away from it, into a place where both Rachel and Max are sitting together happily chatting about something fucking nerdy as shit that would make me laugh. I can picture it in my head sometimes, like it's real. Like it could actually happen. Or even, maybe, like it HAS happened, somehow. When I think too hard about it sometimes I get this weight in my chest that I'm afraid will crush me down into nothingness. 

The crazy thing is, when I'm REALLY honest with myself, the moment Max came back into my life, I just knew I'd never see Rachel again. I can't explain it and sure as hell didn't WANT it to be true. It was just this sinking, overwhelming feeling that screamed and whispered to me at the same time, "She's gone". I know that sounds fucking hella cheese-ball. But it's true, and I can't explain why. It's beyond me. 

I've come to accept lately that there are A LOT of things that happen that I don't understand, no matter how much I want to. There are chunks of time that I can't account for. There are days when my emotions seem to switch on and off like a light switch. There are times when I get this eerie sense of deja vu that just doesn't quit. There are other times when I suddenly remember something from YEARS ago, just out of the blue and I get this feeling that the memory is a new one, even though it's years old. It's so fucking confusing. 

Now that I'm thinking about all these little things that are slowly making me feel totally bat-shit crazy, I realize that every single one of these weird things that I don't understand can somehow all be traced back to Max...

CP


	3. Daydream

December 6, 2013 (PART 1!)

Prior to recent history, my experience with homework has always been just about as enjoyable as sucking a big ol' bag of dicks, (Ugh, that image! Ugh!). I didn't want to do homework or be around it or hear anything about it. However, I now realize that the key to homework related happiness is:

a) To make sure the homework involved isn't yours;

b) To do said homework with a girl you are both hella good friends with and also have a hella huge lady-boner for, and;

c) To do the homework in a dark, cramped room, where you are bound to bump up against the hottie-friend you have a lady-boner for all day long. 

If you follow these three easy steps, homework truly becomes magical experience. 

Max texted me this morning and asked if I could sneak over to her dorm and help her with some homework. I knew the only homework Max would ever want me to help her with would somehow be photography related, (and thus, fun and very unhomework-like for me), so told her I was game.

A new photography teacher started at Max's school in November after that fucked up, creep-ass, Prescott lapdog, Jefferson was axed from the payroll. Apparently this new teacher wants Max to flex her photographic muscles and broaden her technical horizons. Thus, fewer selfies for Max, and more super-modelling for me. When my modelling chops aren't getting a workout, my reflector holding or equipment carrying chops are. I honestly don't mind being Max's photo muse/assistant in the slightest. I know this new teacher is kind of a pain in the ass for Max because she won't let her default to her Polariods and selfies all the time. But I actually think it's a good thing for Max to experiment and do different things artistically. Who knows, maybe if she tries something new, (...in photography...in life...), she might just like it. 

I snuck into Max's room through the window like a ninja and was greeted with a flash.

"Busted", she said with a smug half-smile as she pulled a Polaroid out of my dad's old instant camera and slowly shook it back and forth, "Breaking and entering is a serious offence, you know". 

Damn, Max has gotten cocky since getting superpowers. Naturally, I had to level the playing field. "If I'm going down, you're going down with me, hippie", I said and tackled her onto her bed, (smooth move, playa). She let out a little squeak as I pinned her hands above her head with one of my hands and tickled her with the other. She laughed my name between breaths and squirms and it was so fucking adorable. It was just like old times in a way. We used to do shit like that all the time when we were kids. Now though...it was...I dunno. I'd like to say it was different, but maybe I'm just viewing things through homo-colored glasses. It was different for me now, anyway. Sure, it was still light and fun. But now there was less innocence behind just about everything we did together. 

In no time at all she admitted defeat and I eased off with the tickling. I unpinned her hands, but continued to hover above her on the bed. Her eyes, (they are so fucking BLUE!), looked up at me with an expression I couldn't read. A questioning? A longing? It seemed like her eyes were shouting something to me in a language I couldn't understand. But I wanted to understand it so badly. 

Somewhere in the back of my mind I got this lingering feeling. It was like a vivid daydream playing behind my eyelids. In an instant I was transported to a moment that was somewhere...else. I pictured her whispering, "Kiss me" in a low, husky tone. She licked her lips and bucked her hips up towards me. Everything about her body was begging me to move closer. We were magnets drawn together. A natural force in an unnatural place. And without hesitation I cupped her face in my hand, and leaned into her. 

I snapped out of my daydream in a panic, still hovering over her. It just seemed so REAL. But it wasn't real. Was it? I searched her face for answers, but found nothing. My breath caught in my lungs and my heart raced. I blinked and tried to focus. Things got crazy there for a second. Could she tell? I tried to calm myself down without making it look like I was calming myself down. What was there to be all work up about in the first place? I was embarrassed. I was confused. I was fucking horny as hell. I waited a few seconds, hoping she'd say something. Her eyes seemed more questioning and insistent than ever. They never broke contact with mine. I wasn't sure if I wanted to run away or lean in closer. I couldn't think of anything to say. So, we just kind of stared at each other, as if we were trapped between moments. 

Slowly her expression changed. It softened. It seemed to ease from questioning to knowing, and she smiled at me. She got the same look on her face that she gets when she has just taken a really bitchin' photo. God, I'd give anything to know what Max is thinking most of the time. I should ask her about what's going on in her head more often than I do. The fucked up thing is, most of my time is spent thinking about what she must be thinking about. Why is it so hard to just lay it all out there? Maybe it's hard because I'm fucking scared to death of the things she'd say. 

Eventually I just kind of laughed as casual-sounding as I could muster and slid off of her. I laid beside her on the bed, resting my head on my elbow. Still smiling, she propped herself up the same way, facing me. Without over thinking it, and keeping with the theme of calming the fuck down and acting casual, I reached up with my free hand and tucked a rogue strand of her hair behind her ear and said, "So, what's on the homework agenda today?" 

She groaned and flopped on her back before launching into a photography buzzword-filled speech about film types and shutter speed and aperture and "Something, something, rule of thirds! Something, something, burning and dodging! Something, something, XP2 vs HP5!" It was really all white noise to me, but I sat and listened. I can play the supportive (girl)friend role quite well when Max needs it, and apparently today she needed it. A lot. I got a kick out of seeing how passionate and flustered she was about whatever it was she was talking about. 

I zoned out a bit as I focused on her profile. Those lips. Those freckles. The way her hands gestured towards the ceiling and fell back at her side. In my head I could still hear her voice saying, "Kiss me". Holy fuck that daydream sent me into a tailspin. 

I could tell by the inflection in Max's voice she was heading towards a conclusionary paragraph and I reluctantly dragged myself away from big gay fantasyland and back to super platonic homeworkland. Sarcastic hurray. I focused just in time to hear Max tell me that we were headed to the darkroom to print some black and white photos. 

Darkroom. Cool...

CP


	4. The Darkroom

December 6, 2013 (Part 2!)

So...here are a list of things I knew about the darkroom before today: 

1) It's a dark place...just like the name suggests;

2) Photos happen in that dark place. Somehow. 

That's it. That's all. After spending hours in the darkroom with Max today, I feel like I know a little more than when I started. I mean, don't quiz me on that shit or anything, but I think I could fumble around in the dark and come out with a picture if I really had to. 

Darkroom time with Max was hot for a lot of reasons, the least interesting of which being the temperature in that tiny space. You'd think Blackwell would be able to figure out some sort of air-circulation/cooling system for a place they require their students to spend hours in with semi-dangerous chemicals...but no. It was like Hell's living room room in there, (not quite Hell's kitchen...but still fucking hot). 

After getting the chemicals set up and the enlargers in working order, Max hit the lights and we were left in dim red shadows. It was eerie and beautiful. It was pretty much the same atmosphere as a club, without the alcohol or ugly dudes to hit on you. So essentially, it was perfect. Plus, it was incredibly intimate. I got the feeling that the entire world could end and neither of us would know. It was just me and her in there. A world inside the world. Our little dark cocoon to keep us safe. It reminded me of when Max and I would use all the pillows and blankets in my house to construct a fucking awesome fort in my bedroom. We called it our hidden pirate cave and we pretended that's where we kept our treasure. We'd hide out all day in there, just hanging out. Just being together. 

Max is the most creative and talented person I've ever met, and watching her in action was hella awesome. She has come a long way since I first met her, and yet when I look at her I can still see she's that same little Max from years ago. 

Even though we were in that tiny space for hours, time flew by. I was technically there to "help" Max with her homework, but really I was mostly just there for moral support and entertainment. I can see why she wanted someone there with her. That place was great with the two of us, but I got the feeling it would be super lonely to be there solo. 

I watched her working for hours. She printed the same photo over and over and over and over, changing ridiculously small things every time. The picture she was printing was one she took of me a few weeks ago. She had surprised me when she took it. I was looking out my bedroom window, thinking about all the shit that happened since October when I heard the film in her camera advance. The shot was amazing, but only because it was taken with Max-magic. There's no way I look that good in real life. 

Again and again she printed my photo. More contrast. Less contrast. More exposure. Less exposure. Stop to refocus. Test strip. Refocus again.

As she worked, we chatted. We talked about her parents coming to visit for Christmas. I was hella stoked that she's not going to be leaving over the winter break. The more Max time, the merrier. We talked about her friends. I did my best impressions of Warren and Victoria. She laughed and didn't rush to defend them like she usually does. I guess there was a freedom in knowing what happens in the darkroom stays in the darkroom. We talked about her upcoming exams and the stuff she needed to study. We talked about the concert we're going to next week. Can a punk and a hipster have overlapping musical tastes? Hells yea. Me and Max are more similar than people would think. I pulled out my phone and put on some tunes. We sang along to our favourite songs. While her photos soaked in the chemicals, I grabbed her hands and twirled her around. I'll make a dancer of that little hippie yet. 

When she had printed black and white Chloe-face for like the 600th time, she decided she finally got it "right" and said we could clean up while her prints dried. I helped her wash the trays and drain the print washer. I gathered the totally-perfectly-fine-nearly-identical-to-the-finished-product "reject" photos and test strips and put them in a pile, then I hopped up back onto the counter. I leaned my head back against the cool cement wall and closed my eyes. 

I could sense Max looking at me and I lifted my head and opened my eyes, but when I did, I saw her near her enlarger just staring off into space. She then turned on the lights, grabbed her final print off the rack and stood in front of me, pressing herself up against my knees. 

She looked at me with a tentative expression and after a brief hesitation, she swallowed and put her hand on my knee. My mind started to spin. Where was this sudden forwardness coming from? Part of me thought the way she was acting was so out of character and yet, it seemed so...Max...and oddly familiar. I felt nervousness rise up inside me and looked away. My knees tried to twitch, but with her slight frame pressed up against them, they stayed motionless. She spoke in an almost pleading tone and asked me what I thought of her photo. I told her it looked amazing. 

"It's not the photo that's amazing," she said, squeezing my knee, "it's the subject" . I froze and stared down at her. 

"Uh...thanks Maxi-pad" I said, trying to lighten the moment. 

She smiled and lifted her hand off my knee, holding the photo of me with both hands. She opened her mouth as if to say something and closed it again. Her body was still pressed close to mine, and I could feel the heat radiating off her. Suddenly, she looked so tired and a little sad. Then she quietly said, "Chloe, I love you". 

Max and I said "I love you" to each other all the time. But this time felt...different. It was more of a command than a declaration. I closed my eyes and rubbed the tension out of my forehead. Should I tell her I love her too? Like...LOVE LOVE her. Not just friend love? Not just in a platonic way? Like, big gay, wanna sex you up kinda love? Yea. I should. I totally should. 

I lifted my head and opened my mouth to speak, but when I opened my eyes, I couldn't process what I saw. The room was dark and Max was standing by the enlarger, staring off into space. 

What. The. Actual. Fuck. 

I started to panic. I felt a pain in my head and suddenly I felt trapped by the little dark space. I searched the room for anything...anything at all to let me know I wasn't crazy. What had just happened? Had I fallen asleep? Everything inside me screamed, "NO!" to that idea. I was awake. I was wide a-fucking-wake. 

Max looked over at me, concern on her face. "Chloe, what's wrong?"

I couldn't speak. I couldn't move. My breath was shallow and rushed. Max walked over to me, "Chloe, are you ok?". She reached over and turned on the lights. "Tell me what you're thinking", her voice was urgent. My eyes darted everywhere, searching. I didn't even know what I was searching for. 

Max hopped up on to the counter next to me and rubbed my back. "Hey, it's ok", her voice lost its urgency and became soft and comforting. Her actions were kind, but they made me sad. The last time she rubbed my back like that was after my Dad died. "Chloe, I'm so sorry", she had said hugging me close as my whole world fell apart, "I tried...". I didn't know what she meant by that, but just knowing that she cared made the world a little less horrible. She was my anchor. Without her in that moment, I would have just drifted away. 

After a few minutes of sitting close, Max's hand slowed. She put her head on my shoulder. The panic had passed. We were once again in calm seas. Softly she said, "Chloe, I love you". Those words stung, as I thought back to my dream or vision or whatever the fuck had just happened. I leaned my head on top of hers and sighed, "I love you too, Max". 

CP


	5. Titties

December 9, 2013

I'll never forget the day Max and I became friends. In junior high we were forced to endure a nightmarish semester of sex ed together. Even though we were a grade apart, we were stuck in the same multi-grade hodgepodge of a girls-only class together to learn all about weiners and tacos. Who knew a teacher shortage and budget cuts could have such a fucking awesome impact on my life? That being said, I had no idea anything remotely good was going to come out of that class. As an adult, sex is just about my favourite topic/activity ever, but as a tween, learning all about something as private, fun and hot as sex from your gym teacher was about as public, lame and unsexy as it gets. 

On the first day of class, Ms. Peterson strolled into the room in her khaki cargo shorts and blue Arcadia Bay Jets T-shirt and wrote the letters HAM on the board. She told the class that we were at the age where our bodies were about to embark on a journey to maturity, (barf), and that it was a beautiful thing, (ew, no), and that we needed to know all about, (most of us already did). Before putting a cross section view of a giant wang on the overhead projector, (always a crowd favourite), she said that as we went along, we might have questions. She said she would be happy to answer any of them, as long as they weren't about three topics she wasn't allowed to discuss: Homosexuality, Abortion and Masturbation, (or HAM for short). 

Ms. Peterson never really went into the specifics about why we weren't allowed to discuss HAM, but she alluded to something about a religious parent uprising and a school board decision that prevented her from commenting about those issues blah blah blah blah. Collateral damage from living in a middle-of-nowhere hick town, I guess. 

I remember being totally pissed off about the HAM-ban, although at the time, I was too young to properly express why. The thought of those taboo subjects gave me a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I felt ashamed, but also like an injustice was being done. It made me feel like the things I thought about and were starting to feel were too fucked up to even talk about. Now that I'm older, it makes me livid to think any kid would be made to feel like they couldn't talk about something important to them. It's that kind of oppressive bullshit that fucks with your mind and your self-worth and how you relate to the world. It literally would have been better for her not to mention that HAM shit at all, and just deal with the topics if they ever came up. 

That brief intro about HAM made me have a sizzling hot hatred for Ms. Peterson. In retrospect, I can now see the HAM-ban was bigger than she was, but at the time, all I could see was this woman telling me that I shouldn't talk about something I so desperately needed to talk about. I NEEDED to know that I wasn't crazy. I NEEDED someone to tell me that the things I felt for girls were normal and OK and didn't mean I was epically fucked up. I immediately decided because of her bad HAM-'tude, everything Ms. Peterson said was invalid and I was going to vocalize my opposition at every opportunity. Naturally, I got kicked out of her class at least a dozen times over the course of the semester. I guess I wasn't doing myself any favours, but lil' Chloe had to protest somehow, and fart noises/spitballs/hilariously inappropriate comments really seemed like the best way to make my curriculum objections known. 

Max and I sat together in that class. I wasn't exactly popular at the time, especially not with the girls in my grade. Most of my friends were guys, and thus all the girls threw eye daggers at me non-stop whenever I was around. I guess they hated the fact I could be so close to the objects of their affections. I was literally zero threat to their chances of romance, but I suppose none of them knew that. I just liked hanging with the guys because they were chill and could skateboard. I was essentially one of the guys. 

So, when it came time for sex-ed, all my bros were off learning all about weiners and tacos from Mr. Jebamani down the hall and I was stuck in a class full of bitches who had a hate-on for me. Thus, I sat alone.

When Max entered the class on the first day, she sat alone too. She was small for her age and kept to herself. I could tell right away she wasn't overly popular in her grade either. She wore a purple shirt that said, "To Err Is Human. To Arr Is Pirate". Ha. Classic. I immediately liked her, although I didn't really know why. 

At one point during class, Ms. P left the room to make some copies. We were supposed to work on a benign true/false worksheet while she was away. I finished my sheet in about 30 seconds and leaned back in my chair. That's when I saw a group of girls a few tables over looking at Max. I could hear the girls whispering about her. One threw a ball of paper that hit her right between the eyes. They all laughed. 

"Stop it" she said to them with a furrowed brow. 

One girl got up from her seat and walked up to Max's table, "Why? What are you gonna do to us? Make us walk the plank? Yarrr ya little freak". She pushed Max's books off the table. I could see the tears well up in Max's eyes. Clearly this was not a one-time thing. 

Thinking about people who bully others like that makes me so fucking mad. Harassing someone because YOU have decided they are weaker than you to try to make yourself feel better is just total bullshit. No one really knows what goes on in anyone else's head. No one knows what someone else is going through or their reasons for doing what they do. Even now as I write this, I'm mad about it. As a 12 year old who was dealing with all sorts of inner turmoil and had nowhere to vent it, I was fucking postal. I decided to direct all my anger at the bitch who was making Max cry. 

I stood up and walked over to Max's table. I picked up Max's book off the floor and placed it back on her desk. I turned and faced the girl who was standing over Max. I was so fucking pissed off and I made sure my body language showed my disapproval. I wasn't an overly big or intimidating person at the time (nor am I now, I suppose). I was tall and thin with long blond hair. But I had about a year and a half and 20 pounds on that little bully bitch and I KNEW I could take her down if I needed to. I approached the girl quickly and silently and she looked surprised and afraid. That only encouraged me. I walked forward, forcing her to back up. I could feel the rest of the class watching us. I didn't care. I kept walking until I backed her right up into her chair. She tripped backwards and stumbled down into her seat. 

I stood there for a moment towering above her. She was stunned. It was as if no one had ever challenged her behaviour before. I stared her down for a few moments, until I heard Ms. P approaching. Then I said, "You're fucking done with that shit. The next time you think of messing with her, remember that you're messing with me. Do you understand?". The girl looked up at me. She and her friends nodded. I turned away and sat in the empty chair next to Max just as Ms. P walked in. 

I looked at Max as I pulled my chair in. "Yar, chin up wee pirate lass. Ye be on my crew now", I whispered to her. Her eyes were still filled with tears and when she laughed a few of them spilt over, "aye, aye, captain". 

From that day forward, I considered Max a friend. We didn't see each other much because we were in different grades, but as time went on, I actually looked forward to that horrible class, just so I could spend time with her. Every time we had class together we'd add to our pirate story. Despite our differences, we were actually a ton alike. We found the same things funny. We watched the same TV shows. We played the same sports. I often found myself wishing we were in the same grade. I even contemplated doing extra shitty at my school work, just so I'd fail and end up in her class. 

At the end of sex-ed class every week, I'd walk Max to her locker and see what boy-band-du-jour was on display in there. Ok, so we did still have some differences, but it was nice having a friend who was a girl. Seeing cut outs from a J-14 mag on her locker was a small price to pay for a real friendship. Max was smart and super creative and hella funny, and she did all those things in a completely understated way. I was louder and more outgoing. When I made a joke, everyone knew about it. I was playing to the masses, but really making Max laugh was pretty much my ultimate goal and favourite thing to do, ever. But when Max made a joke it was quiet and private and it was like she told it just for me. It was also the funniest thing I'd ever fucking heard...every time. In a lot of ways, Max was way more bad-ass than I was. She was just smarter about it. And I loved that about her.

I remember one day I had been kicked out of class for screaming, "I love titties!" when Ms. P put an anatomically correct drawing of a big-bosomed woman on the overhead projector (no regrets, by the way. That shit was hilarious. It cracked Max up especially, and seeing her try to stifle a giggle as Ms. P freaked the fuck out was worth every moment). 

I sat in the hall cross legged, looking at the floor. I fidgeted with my shoelace and waited for the period to be over so I could receive the after-class lecture I knew was coming my way. Fuck, I dreaded those convos big-style. Suddenly, two black and white Converse shoes came into my view and stopped right before my knee. When I looked up, I saw those shoes were attached to little hippie legs, which were in turn attached to little hippie Max. 

"What are you doing here?" I asked her. Max was not one to be kicked out of class.

She looked around for a second, scanning the hall for any potential eavesdroppers, then sat down beside me and nudged my shoulder with hers, "Officially, I'm on a bathroom break. Really though, I just wanted to see how you're doing. It sucks Ms. Peterson is such a bitch to you. If it's any consolation, you really derailed her. She's still messed up. Who knew titties were her Achilles heal? The class is eating her alive. It's almost painful to watch."

"Awesome" I said with a little laugh. 

Max leaned in, "You ok though?"

I sighed, "Yea. Another day, another detention"

A quiet moment passed between us. She sat next me, our shoulders touching, "Can I ask you something?"

I turned my head to look at her, "Shoot". 

"Do you really love titties?"

For a second we both paused. Then we both erupted into laughter. 

"Maybe" I said, laughing so hard I choked. I stifled a cough into my sweater. Max kept laughing and when I realized she didn't look the least bit horrified, I added, "I mean, yes. Totally. All titties, all the time". It was unusual for me to talk about stuff like that, but it felt good to say it out loud, even if I was dancing around the issue in a joking way. 

Max composed herself and smiled at me with shining blue eyes and said, "Oh good. Because I wanted to let you know that maybe I do too". 

"Oh, whatever", I snorted, "You got the mad-love for Justin Timberlake. I've seen your locker".

"True", she giggled, "But if you've seen my locker, you've seen I have pictures of the Pussycat Dolls up there too". 

"So do most girls". 

"I'm not most girls, Chloe". 

"Touche", I studied her face. She was laughing, but I could tell from her expression that she wasn't kidding. A wave of affection for Max washed over me. 

Our laughter subsided and we sat quietly with our thoughts. A moment passed between us. There was an understanding there now that hadn't been there with anyone else ever before. It was just us, shoulder to shoulder on that old tile floor, gaying up the place. For the first time in my life I felt completely like someone "got" me. It was like I was a puzzle, and Max had just found that corner piece I hadn't even been aware I was missing. From that moment on, we were in on something together. The world was no longer such a fucked up, lonely place, and it was all because of her.


	6. That Night In October

December 10, 2013

There are a lot of things that Max and I talk about. Conversation comes easily to us, and the silences in between are comfortable. We talk about life. We talk about getting careers and moving away from Arcadia Bay together. We talk about travelling together and the adventures we would have roaming the world. We talk about abstract ideas and we make up theories. We talk about movies and music. We talk about people we know and things that happen on the news. We talk about things that happened in our day. We never run out of things to talk about. 

Sometimes, on days when we're feeling particularly brave we talk about hard things. We talk about Rachel. We talk about my dad. We talk about her leaving five years ago. The more we talk about those things, the easier it is to talk about them. They have become a part of our history. 

Since shit went down in October, there hasn't been a single day we haven't spoken. Sometimes I feel like almost every thought that enters my head somehow belongs to her too. She makes me feel like the things I think about matter, and I try my best to do the same for her. 

For all the things we talk about, there are a lot of things we don't. 

We don't talk about us. I mean, we talk about us in the broader sense that we won't ever leave each other and where I go she goes and vice versa. Charming, really. But some day soon I'd like to go a little deeper than that. I'd like to go a little...gayer. I'd like to move all these heartfelt friendly chats right into relationshipville, population the two of us. We're grown up people now. We're bonded for life by the things that have happened. I can't imagine my life without her, both in the sense that I KNOW she has saved my life a bunch of times and also that I don't want my world to ever be Max-less. I've tried it. It sucks. I don't want it to happen again. Us taking things to the next level wouldn't be much of an adjustment. We'd be exactly the same as we are now, just we could also be having sex sometimes, which could only make things better. It's like adding icing to a cake. The cake is great! Icing on the cake is greater! 

Before that happens though, there are other things that we don't talk about that I think we probably should. There are things I'm dying to know...that I NEED to know.

I need to know more about Max's powers. How did she get them? How do they work? How often does she use them? How exactly does she rewind time? Does she just pull an "I Dream of Jeanie" and cross her arms and blink and suddenly things are as they were? Or does something else happen? Max rarely talks about her powers, and yet I think they control both of our lives, almost completely. It drives me fucking nuts. 

Related to Max's powers somehow is that night in October; the night we found Rachel's body. Something crazy went down, and it kills me that I don't know what. I know Max went through something horrible...something that changed her. Whenever I try to bring it up she just gets really quiet or changes the subject. Sometimes she even cries. I hate seeing Max cry, so I don't talk about that night much. But I think about it all the time. 

Time moves differently for Max. I don't know how or why, but I know it does. That night in October I think she experienced a year's worth of living in a span of a few moments. I mean, it only seemed like a minute to me, but I think it as a lot more for her. 

When we found Rachel's body in the junk yard, I was devastated. I felt like I had been fucking harpooned in the chest. I felt like I was falling down a bottomless pit. I cried so hard, I threw up. 

I hadn't been that hurt in a long time. The last time I was that messed up was when my dad died. I went through fucking hell when that happened and I couldn't fathom going through shit like that again. So, I channelled all the hurt and sadness I was feeling in that moment into intense, blinding rage. I was running on pure adrenaline. Someone was going to pay for what happened. I didn't even care who. 

Max was so sweet. Her voice was filled with concern as she told me she'd always be there for me. I had Dave's gun in my pocket as Max and I headed to the school. I was on a fucking mission. I didn't even give a shit that suddenly there were two moons in the sky and that the fucking world was probably ending. I was in pain beyond logic. 

Naturally, right when we needed it the least, we got stopped by that fucking drunk puppy-dog Warren, who wanted to take a selfie with Max for "prosperity". Fucking prosperity. The world was ending, people were dying, and he was taking photos. Yet another time that little nerd was clueless. I was hell bent on revenge, Max was trying to save the world, and he wanted a photo of a girl who wasn't the slightest bit interested in him. Of course not taking the fucking hint, he put he gross man-arm around her, she said "action", then the camera flashed. 

I looked at Max as the photo was taken. My muscles were on fire, I was so tense. I needed to be in motion, because movement was the only thing that helped release the huge steam cloud of anxiety that was inside me. And yet, instead of moving, I stood there, waiting for her. Even in the fucked up state I was in, I knew we were a team. That one single truth was the only thing that kept me from going completely over the edge. 

I must have blinked, but a moment later everything was different. SHE was different. Immediately I knew something horrible had happened. Her eyes were wild and urgent. Tears and dirt streaked her face. Blood was coming out of her nose like water comes out of a faucet. It was like she was transplanted in front of me from another place and time...a horrible place and time. She untangled her self from Warren and grabbed onto me. She brushed the hair from my face and touched my forehead; gently at first, then more urgently. She let out a sigh through her tears and then pressed her face into my chest and sobbed my name. Without thinking I wrapped my arms around her and held her. I was stunned. So was Warren. 

Without letting go of me, Max turned to Warren and told him that he needed to do anything he could to get Victoria to go back to her dorm and stay there. "Fucking torch the place if you have to" she said. Poor Warren looked so confused. He reached out to comfort Max and she screamed, "Now!" at him and pushed him towards the school. "Go! Please!", her voice was raspy as if she had been shouting for hours. 

Warren stumbled off towards the school, turning back every few steps to look at Max. "Hurry!" she shouted at him, which seemed to startle him into compliance, and he ran towards the doors. Once he entered the building, Max grabbed my hand and pulled me towards my truck, "Take me out of here, Chloe. Take me to your place. Please!". My rage had been replaced with confusion, but adrenaline was still coursing through me. I hesitated. My thoughts hadn't caught up to Max's yet and I froze. 

Max's grip on my hand tightened. She continued to bleed and cry. She put a hand to her temple and rubbed her forehead. A low, pained, growl escaped her lips. 

"Listen to me", she screamed suddenly, "If you never, EVER do anything for me again that's fine but just do this ONE thing. PLEASE, Chloe. I know you miss Rachel. I know you loved her. I know you want someone to pay for her death. But I KNOW the people who did this WILL pay. You just have to trust me. I love you more than anyone in the world ever has or ever will and if you really, really do love me too, even a little bit, you will do this for me. Take me back to your place, right now. Take me into your room and lock the door and just sit with me. I can't fix the world. I can't stop all the bad things from happening. But I can do this one thing, and this is the only thing that matters to me right now. So please, take me home. We will both be safe. That's all I want. That's all I ever wanted. Please. Please! I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you for all those years, but I'm here now and you're here now and I can't fucking lose you again. Please, Chloe". 

And in that instant nothing else mattered any more. I had never heard Max speak to me or anyone else ever with such passion and conviction. There was only me and her and that moment and I couldn't let her down. Yes, I loved Rachel, but she was gone. Nothing would bring her back. Max wasn't gone, though. She was there in front of me pleading with me. And I felt with absolute certainty that I needed to do what she asked. 

I let her lead me to the truck. I grabbed some tissues from the glove compartment and held them to her nose. She stopped crying and thanked me, before urging me to drive to my house. We got there in record time, the drive filled with a silence neither of us noticed. We were both too lost in thought. 

When we got to my place, we ran up to my room. Once the door was closed behind me, she visibly relaxed. Her nose had stopped bleeding on the way over, but when I looked down, I noticed we were both covered in her blood. I wanted so badly to know what had happened to her, why we were suddenly hiding in my room, and in general what the fuck was going on. 

She grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the closet of all places. She pulled me inside and shut the doors. She then pulled me to the ground and together we sat there until morning. 

I tried to ask Max what had happened and why we were in the closet, but her expression became panicked and she wouldn't speak. When nothing I said seemed to be helping, I realized that words couldn't fix whatever it was that had happened to her. So I did the only thing I could think of: I wrapped my arms around her and held her. She held me back so tightly, as if it was the last time she would ever see me. I held her as she cried and shook. I held her long after she stopped. I held her until little sun beams seeped in through the hinge of my closet door. 

Those little beams of light lit up Max's face. She relaxed completely. By then my back was stiff and my legs were cramped as fuck. I asked her if we could get up. She agreed. 

We sat on my bed for a while watching the sun come up. I kept waiting for her to say something...explain why she acted so strangely. But she didn't say a thing. Finally I couldn't take it any more and I blurted out, "Ok, so what the fuck, Max?". It came out harsher than I meant it to sound and for a second I regretted saying it. I didn't want to be a douche about things. I really did care that Max had been so upset. I was just super confused and worried and it was sort of time for some answers. 

But Max didn't get mad or upset. Instead she laughed. Little Max sat on my bed with blood and dirt and tears on her face, with her hair a mess and with her clothes torn, laughing. She leaned over and kissed my forehead. She told me everything was going to be ok. 

In time I found out all about the Prescotts and Jefferson and about what had happened to Rachel. Arrests were made, justice was served. And Max and I moved on. 

We moved on, but I still to this day have so many questions. Someday soon I'm going to be brave and ask them; no matter what the answers may be.


	7. Quality Time With Rachel

December 11, 2013

Max finishes her exams on Friday. Thank God. Life is hella boring when she's in study mode. I'm super stoked because she will be crashing at my place for the entire winter break. I can't think of a better Christmas present than three weeks of quality Max time. Ok...maybe three weeks of quality Max time with hours of making out and hundreds of mutual orgasms would actually be a better Christmas gift, but fuck it, I'll take what I can get. 

And speaking of the impending holiday, Mom just invited Max's parents to stay over at our place when they visit from Seattle. I'm excited-ish about that. I mean, that will for sure make my Xmas way less depressing than it has been the past five years. Nothing says Christmas like a house full of people, food, and gifts. I haven't had a Christmas like that since Dad was alive. 

The weird thing is, even if I had a Christmas like that at some point during the past five years, I don't think I would have enjoyed it. I was seriously caught up in anger and grief. Being happy seemed wrong without Dad. It was like, if I was happy without Dad, that meant I was happy that Dad was gone. I don't feel like that any more. I've worked through a lot of my shit in the past few months. For the first time in ages, I honestly believe it's ok to be happy. That's what Dad would have wanted. And Rachel. For some reason I just get that now. I'm like the fucking Grinch whose heart just grew three sizes bigger or some shit. It's great, and so un-Chloe of me. Or wait. Maybe it's not un-Chloe, but "New-and-Improved Chloe". Yea. that seems right. 

All that happiness aside, I'm a bit nervous about seeing the Caulfields again. I wonder what they will think of me now. I've changed so much since they last saw me. I always liked Max's parents. They were chill. But would they be so chill if they knew I had big gay feelings for their daughter? I dunno. Maybe that all depends on what their daughter feels about my big gay feelings towards her and if she has big gay feelings back. 

In other news, I guess I should mention that I'm writing this entry from the junk yard. No one ever comes here, so it's a great place to get away from it all and think. On days I want to be close to Rachel, I come here. I talk to her sometimes just like I would if she were still alive. Some people might think that's fucked up, but in a really weird way I feel like she can hear me, and that thought makes me so happy. 

I know our relationship was complicated. I know I wanted more from her than she could give me. I didn't see that at the time, but I do now. Sometimes the line between a girl who is your friend and a girlfriend is crazy blurry. Hindsight is 20/20, I suppose, and when Max found those pictures of Rachel and Frank, everything became crystal clear. No matter how much I wanted it, we could never have been a couple. I get it now. My whole mindset about her has changed at this point. Even thinking about us being together in that way seems somehow wrong. But despite that, I can't ignore the fact that I really did love her so much. We were fucking awesome friends. She was so easy to talk to and I loved spending time with her. 

So I came out here today to hangout with Rachel. I know that might sound pathetic and like I'm a huge loner, but it actually feels pretty awesome. I really wanted to talk to someone about Max, and Rachel seemed like the perfect person to talk to, even posthumously. I feel like Rachel would have totally loved Max. The three of us would have been inseparable. 

Rachel and I did a lot of stuff together. We had some crazy dreams and did some crazy drugs and we really lived it up. But my favourite memory of her isn't wild and crazy. It's quiet and sweet. 

The memory is of me and Rachel hanging out in Arcadia Bay's shopping district last winter. Rachel loved to window shop and I loved Rachel, thus we had been walking around the streets for hours. We had so much fun that day. We went into the shops and tried on clothing that we had no money to buy. We bummed smokes off shoppers. We walked around and around until we were numb. After hours of walking, we wandered out way into junk yard.

We passed a joint between us until it was gone. We took turns sipping on a wickedly strong alcoholic concoction that Rachel had with her in a flask in her purse. The weather was super cold, but I didn't want to leave because I was having so much fun hanging out with her. At one point my fingers felt like ice cubes, so I tried to warm them up by breathing on them. Rachel took my hand into hers and warmed it by rubbing it between her hands. It was such a simple gesture that she did without even thinking about it. And it meant the world to me.

It was little acts of kindness that made Rachel so appealing. She thought nothing of helping a stranger carry groceries into their house, or entertaining a crying baby in a restaurant to give the parents a bit of a break. She was an awesome blend of kind and cool and that made her hella attractive in one way or another to just about everyone she met. Including me. 

I miss Rachel. I miss her everyday . But I feel like she is still with me. I think she really is my angel now.


	8. Truth Or Dare

December 12, 2013

So I'm going to go ahead and have a huge over-share moment. If that weirds you out:

a) Why the fuck are you reading this? and;

b) Go away. 

Ok, here it goes. I'm super horny in the mornings. Like, my baseline state is kind of always DTF, but in the mornings...damn. Some people are hungry for breakfast. I'm hungry for sex. I've heard that guys have morning wood (ugh), so I must have the chick equivalent of that. 

I actually don't have much of a problem with being extra frisky in the mornings. I typically just, um, "take care of business", a few times before going about my day. Some days, however, that's not possible. Sometimes I have to get creative. 

Like, for example, that time back in October when Max and I let ourselves into the Blackwell swimming pool, (it's not breaking in if you have a key!). Splashing around in the dark, nearly naked with Max...that was hot. Sneaking around, almost getting caught...that added an element of danger to it all. Damn, that was fucking sexy. 

It got worse/better though. I woke up with her next to me, still nearly naked. Holy hell. OK, I mean she was wearing a t-shirt and shorts, but those shorts were really short and Max has hella sexy legs. It was definitely hard to focus on anything else. Then like a minute later she kissed me. OK, so I dared her to do it, but she totally went for it without hesitation. I think my ovaries literally exploded when she did that. I had to back the fuck up when she made her move, or else I would have pounced all over her, (and believe me, I really, REALLY wanted to pounce all over her). But things were crazy at that time. We were in the middle of a Prescott shit-storm and both of our heads were elsewhere. I mean, of course I wanted to go there with her, (So. Fucking. Badly.), but it didn't seem like the right time. I was fucking shocked as hell she kissed me in the first place. Who knew that little pirate had it in her? (I'm SO GLAD that little pirate has it in her).

Fortunately/unfortunately after Max kissed me, I was more turned on than I have ever been in my entire life. My "girls downstairs" were screaming for attention. I tried to play it cool, but I was a sex-craved hot-mess. It was at that point I had to get creative with my morning routine. I sent Max downstairs to get breakfast, under the pretence that I was going to wake and bake. I know that's fucked up, and probably part of the reason Max eventually made me promise I would stay sober, but it was much better than either jumping her bones or walking around sexually frustrated all day. 

That fucked up strategy worked at the time, but now that I'm totally sober, it's a little more difficult to get alone time when Max stays over. And of course, as I write this, Max is sound asleep next to me. That old familiar itch wants to be scratched, but there is no easy way to do it without things getting...weird. 

I should probably note that being hella turned on by the girl who you are super hot for, who is also sleeping right next to you, is the least problematic problem ever. As far as problems go, it's one I love to have. I'm just writing in here to kill sometime until she is awake. I have to do SOMETHING with my hands! 

The thing is...today isn't just any ordinary day. This isn't just random, unsolicited horniness. Things happened between me and Max last night. Good things. Gay things. Things that make my mind (and hands!) want to wander. 

Max texted me when I was chilling in the junk yard. I really didn't expect to hear much from her yesterday. I mean, I wanted to, but I know school is important, (I can't believe I'm saying that), and she had to get her study-on. She texted me in the late afternoon and said that she was brain-dead from studying and needed some Chloe-time to clear her head. How could I resist that? Well, guess what? I couldn't! 

I told her I would pick her up, but she said she was already on the bus down to my place, (presumptuous, little hippie). So I said my goodbyes to Rachel, packed up my things and headed home. 

When I got there, Max was in the backyard, sitting on the swing. Her face lit up when she saw me. She was so beautiful. The sun was dipping in the sky and little snowflakes were lazily drifting around her. It was getting cooler out, but seeing her made me warm in all the right places.

"Hey, lady" see said, getting up from the swing. 

I walked towards her and pulled her in for a hug, "Well, this is a nice surprise". 

"Ugh, my life is so boring when you're not around, Chloe". 

My face was pressed into her jacket and the laugh that escaped me came out muffled. I had just written the same thing about her a few hours earlier. I pulled away and raised my hand to the sky, hollering out a dramatic, "Amen to that, sista". 

"I fucking hate studying. Let's do something fun. Or even something boring. Let's just do something together".

Oh Max. I am putty in your sexy little hands. 

I suddenly had the best idea ever in the history of ideas. Max and I went inside through the patio doors. I sat her down in the dining room and made us some hot chocolate. I put a frozen pizza in the oven, (mmmm...pepperoni and bacon pizza), and told Max to keep an eye on it while I ran upstairs for a minute. 

After executing "Operation: Best Idea In The History Of Ideas", I went back to the kitchen where Max had just finished her hot chocolate. She looked adorable as fuck with a bit of marshmallow fluff stuck to her upper lip. I resisted the urge to lick it off as I served us up some food. When we were sufficiently loaded up with grub, I took Max up to my bedroom. 

The look on Max's face when she entered my room made me wish I was the one who was a photographer. I wish everything I did made that little hippie so happy. While Max was bobbing for marshmallows in the kitchen, I had quickly MacGyvered a fort in the corner of my room. I pimped the fort with a string of Christmas lights I had bought in an attempt to be all festive and shit for Max's upcoming holiday stay. I somehow KNEW she would love them. I also pulled my little TV into the fort so we could veg out and watch a movie. 

"Chloe, you are amazing. THIS is amazing!" 

"Hells yea, Maximus-Prime. We are super long overdue for a movie night. You know, I read somewhere that relaxation before a big test is actually MORE productive than hours and hours of studying."

Max laughed, "Yea right! But I'm going to go ahead and believe you, because fort time with you is pretty much a million times better than a sleepless night of cramming". 

And so we climbed into Fort Pricefield and watched Netflix as we chowed down. After Max finished eating, she snuggled up next to me and rested her head on my shoulder. I put one arm around her and thought, "I could do this every night for the rest of my life". It was so perfect. The easiness between us. The way we fit together so well. It just felt so RIGHT. 

After the movie, Max got a sudden burst of energy, (note to self, my cuddles give Max life. That is a VERY promising sign). It was like she had a load of pent-up energy from sitting still and studying all day and chose that time to release it. I was feeling pretty energetic myself, at least partly due to the fact I find Max's enthusiasm contagious. After chatting about the movie for a bit, Max suggested we play a game. Of course, I went ahead and blurted out the first game that popped into my head: Truth Or Dare. Max narrowed her eyes with a sly smile and raised an eyebrow, as she agreed to the game. Fantastic. 

The first few turns were pretty lame, but we had to start somewhere. Max dared me to do 10 push ups, (I can't imagine why, but I nailed it because I'm hella fucking buff), and I dared her to try on one of my punkiest outfits. That girl looks so fucking good in punk clothing. She has the perfect body for it. Or the perfect body for anything really. Not that I spend a lot of time looking at her body. OK I do. I really, really do. 

The next round of the game, newly punked-up Max chose truth. My dreams of gothing her up would have to wait. Nonetheless, I was feeling a bit bold at that point so I asked a question that was weighing heavily on my mind. 

"Tell me about your powers" I asked, "Like, how do you actually do it? Rewinding I mean. I obviously get the concept, but what do you do physically? You must have rewound a million times in front of me, but I never get to see you in action because...well...you know." 

Max hesitated for a moment. She looked tentative before lifting her hand out in front of her, "Like this" she said. It looked as if she was extending her arm to grab something just out of reach.

"Wow", was all I could say. Even though I had no idea what rewinding looked like, the gesture looked entirely familiar and almost graceful. Max shrugged. I opened my mouth to ask another question, but Max stopped me. "Nuh-uh. Your turn. Truth or Dare?" 

Damn it. So that was how it was going to be. "Truth". 

Max bit her bottom lip. She took a breath. She seemed nervous. This made me incredibly nervous. 

"OK. The last time I wore clothes like this was in October. You gave me Rachel's clothes because mine were all chloriney. We were standing over there by the closet. You dared me to kiss you, and I did, but you pulled away. Why did you pull away?"

Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit. I was not expecting to talk about this tonight. 

I could feel the heat rising in my face. Way to be cool, Chloe. 

"I...uh...shit. I dunno Max", I stumbled. Max's gaze was unwavering, but soft. Why does she always have to look at me like that? It was now or never time. 

"It's not like I wanted to pull away. I just wasn't...I mean...we weren't..." I let out a sigh. This wasn't going well. 

"OK, I wanted to kiss you back. I REALLY did. I just wanted it to be special. I mean, it would have been special regardless, but at the time there was so much other shit going on, I didn't want a hypothetical 'Us' to get lost in all that other shit. And also...the thought of 'Us'...hypothetical or otherwise...is incredibly horrifying. But like...in a really good way...". My voice trailed off. Shit.

Max remained silent. I had no idea what she was thinking. My heart was slamming around in my chest. 

"So, yea...that's the answer to THAT. ANYWAY, your turn. Truth or dare?" Good recovery, Chloe. Nice one. Smooth. 

Max was still motionless, "Truth". 

Weird. Her mouth said truth but I could swear her eyes said dare. So...Dare accepted. 

"OK. Since we are talking about that fateful day in October; why did you kiss me when I dared you to?". Checkmate, hippie. 

Max's expression was so hard to read. We were going there. We were actually talking about this. And I had no idea where the conversation was heading. 

"Because I wanted to. I wanted to really...a lot. And because you didn't think I would, and I wanted you to know that I would."

Oh. My. God. She kissed me because she wanted to. Really a lot, in fact. 

"Your turn. Truth or Dare". 

"Truth". 

"Did you like it? The kiss, I mean?" Max's unwavering gaze crumbled and she looked down at her hands. 

"YES!" I said, way too enthusiastically, causing Max to look up at me and laugh. I let out a nervous laugh too, at the ridiculousness of it all and asked, "Truth or Dare?"

"Truth" she said, still laughing. 

"If I dared you to kiss me again, would you?". Oh I went there. I so went there. 

"Of course, I would, Chloe". Her words were so, natural as if it was totally obvious that she was just WAITING AROUND to mack on me. "Truth or Dare?"

"Truth". 

"Is this a special enough moment for a kiss?", Max gestured to the fort around us. The fort was lit only by the string of Christmas lights. Soft, multicoloured shadows felt overlapping behind her on the wall. She was a vision. 

"It really is", I said looking around our little hideout. It was just the two of us now. No Rachel drama or Prescott/Jefferson drama. No distractions. Just us. "Truth or dare?", I asked. 

Max looked down at her hands again as she said the word I had been waiting to hear, "Dare". 

It was go time. "I dare you to kiss me", I said eagerly, just as I had before in October. This time it wasn't an experimental whim. This time we were ready. "I double dare you. Kiss me now". 

And that's when the games ended. All the games. The game we were playing that night, and all the little games we had been playing since Max and I met. All the push and the pull, all the dancing around our feelings; all of it was done. 

Max leaned in slowly, still biting her lip. I reached out and laid my hand on top of hers. "Please don't rewind this away", I pleaded. The thought that this moment might disappear from my memory was heartbreaking. My whole life had been leading up to this moment. I wanted it to stay intact. Forever. 

"I won't", she said with absolute conviction. I believed her. We were in this together. And it was amazing. 

I moved my hand and laced it into her soft brown hair. She did the same and pulled my mouth to hers. 

First contact between our lips was gentle and soft. It was totally, utterly consuming. It was different than any other kiss I ever experienced. It was like I was kissing her with every part of me. I have never felt so connected to anyone or anything, ever. Slowly, Max gained confidence and her pace became hungrier. Our kiss became wet and urgent. Our tongues explored each others mouths as if we were trying to consume each other. I couldn't get enough of her. 

We kissed until we were literally breathless. We parted, our chests taking in air as if we had been underwater and were now above the surface. I saw stars behind my eyes and I felt a wonderful dizzy sensation all through my body. 

We laid down beside each other, breathing heavily. Max reached over and grabbed my hand. She brought it to her chest and placed it over her heart. I felt her pulse crashing beneath my fingertips. 

"This is what you do to me, Chloe. This is what you have always done to me". 

Her words melted over me, and stole the sound from my throat. Yea, that's right. For once in my life I didn't have any smartass comebacks. The moment defied words. I took her free hand and kissed it gently before placing it over my own heart. Sometimes you can say things best when you don't use words. I could swear I felt our hearts beating in unison and I swear she felt it too. It was like we were two halves of that just became whole. 

We stayed like that until our hearts slowed. Max rolled on to her side, still holding on to my hand. I rolled with her. The thought, "Oh my God, I'm spooning Max" popped into my head and made me smile. I nuzzled the back of her neck, causing her to moan (mental note for later, Max's neck is very sensitive. Excellent). 

"Chloe, can I sleep here tonight?"

"Obviously", I said, "Like, tonight, tomorrow and every night for the rest of our lives". 

"OK, sounds great, but I hope we don't live literally here for the rest of our lives because we should really get a place of our own at some point".

I laughed into her hair, "Wow, so one kiss and we're moving in together. I like your style, hippie". 

Max let go of my hand and turned over to face me. She kissed me slowly, and deeply before pulling away and resting her head on my shoulder. "I like your style too". And we stayed just like that until we both drifted off to sleep.

And that brings us to now. I'm here, up to my eyeballs in love-feelings, also fighting off a raging morning lady-boner and wanting to spend more time getting acquainted with all sort of lips that Max may have. But she's asleep and has an exam in a few hours, so no nookie for the wicked this time. 

Lucky for me, good things come to those who wait...


End file.
